Worth the Wait
by Mistressdickens
Summary: Mrs Hughes receives her first kiss from Mr Carson, which also happens to be her first kiss ever. A short fluffy look at a moment between our favourite Butler and Housekeeper


**A/N: Ok, so I *thought* I found a headcanon on Dr-Chatelaine's blog about the fact that Elsie had never been kissed, although I can't find it now. It doesn't really matter, because this little piece still came from her idea, even if I imagined it! The idea of flirty footmen and not loving Joe come from her head canons though (Joe is one of mine too).**

Elspeth Margaret Hughes was a woman who commanded a great deal of authority, not only because she carried more years than the rest of the staff, but also due to the fact that she had kept the personal details of her life very close to her chest indeed. Everyone knew that they could seek out Mrs Hughes if they had a problem, romantic or otherwise, and she would give them the benefit of her opinion. There was never, however, a personal element to her advice. She had never once said 'When I was young' or given any details of her past to anyone other than Mr Carson – and only sparingly then.

This was not out of some wish to maintain her air of mystery, as Mr Barrow might have supposed, but quite simply the little experience she _did_ have was extremely limited.

She had never been in love. She had found Joe to be extremely companionable and did not doubt she would have come to love him had she accepted his proposal, but she had not felt anything like the stories her fellow, giggling, housemaids had shared, nor the novels she voraciously read had described (although her common sense had grounded her and allowed her to believe it could not be anything like their overblown and dramatic tales).

All that had changed as she realised her feelings of friendship for Mr Carson had blossomed into something deeper. She recognised the distraction of her thoughts and the quickening of her heart from the tales she had read, but the knowledge did not serve her in any way. For many years she had thought her feelings to be unrequited, and although she understood Daisy's pain over Alfred far too keenly, she could hardly admit to it, nor offer the girl any practical advice. She would have been a hypocrite to tell the girl to forget her feelings or that Alfred would come to understand eventually, when she was unable to relinquish her own feelings and Mr Carson remained oblivious.

There had been a shift, she thought, and in amongst the drama surrounding the death of Mr Green, she found herself wondering if love _was_ a possibility. He _flirted_ (something she did have experience of. There had been a number of footmen in her younger years who had squired her to country dances, laying on flattery with a trowel). He offered a business proposal of sorts and she allowed herself to hope that one day he might come to care.

And then Christmas eve arrived and blew all her hopes into the air and replaced them with something infinitely greater. Not only did he love, but she was loved and the change it rendered in her was exhilarating and overwhelming. She was a new woman, changed, and yet the same, by this treasure chest of emotion.

There was one aspect of her history, however, that was not improved by the revelation of his true feelings, and had not altered in the days since it had happened.

She remained entirely unkissed.

Sixty two years of age, and no man's lips had touched hers – although not through a lack of those footmen trying their luck; something she'd firmly put a stop to. Joe had always been a gentleman, although she suspected that the fact that the majority of their courtship after his proposal had been conducted by letter was a greater barrier than anything else.

She did not regret that it had never happened. There was little in her life she truly regretted. She had seen the drudge of a life her mother had lived and decided to aim for better. The fact that Becky would have never been able to cope in that existence made her more determined to rise through the ranks so that she could provide for her sister. No, she had no regrets, especially when she had witnessed the state in which Mr Grigg had ended.

Her unkissed state had not changed since Mr Carson's proposal. It had taken place a week ago and they had found little time to spare for themselves. This was not something she was willing to instigate either. Old fashioned it might be, but she felt as if Mr Carson should be the one to make the first overtures. If Mr Carson needed time to gather his courage, then she would happily wait. She had the rest of their lives to kiss him.

So it was that very late on New Year's Eve (or possibly New Year's Day, she didn't remember hearing the midnight chimes) she found herself in Mr Carson's pantry, sitting opposite him, as was their wont, although now the two chairs were arranged so that they formed a kind of love seat, allowing them a greater intimacy, but without impeding their vision, so they could still drink in the other's face.

It had been a tumultuous few days, for their engagement had been announced just the day before and they were still trying to get to grips with the changes it all implied as well as dealing with being thrust into the limelight. They had danced together at the Servants' ball mere hours before and it had been a heady experience for Mrs Hughes. Having him so close, and feeling his love for her practically rolling off him, had confirmed the rightness of it all.

Now they sat, chatting of nothing in particular, content simply with the company and the promises they gave each other with the mere brush of a finger or knee.

At last, Mrs Hughes expressed her extreme fatigue and rose, saying she would be off to bed.

'Just one moment Mrs Hughes.'

She paused, turning her face back down to his, her eyes giving the query her voice did not. Mr Carson appeared perturbed … no, that was not quite right … it was more a mixture of deep reflection and slight embarrassment. She turned to face him fully, so that he would know she was listening to whatever he had to say.

'I've been thinking about things', he said as he rose, taking hold of both her hands and looking down at her.

'Have you indeed? Were they pleasant thoughts?' It was all she could think to say, given that she was being quite distracted by the circles his thumbs were drawing on the top of her hands.

'Yes and no …. You see, I was thinking that up till now, I have never kissed you.' He drew one hand up to caress her cheek, feeling a burst of pleasure as he witness the happiness diffuse her face. She gave a small shake of her head, not daring to test the strength of her voice in such a moment.

'May I do so now?'

'Oh …. I wish you would!' she said on a whisper, the words echoing about them and binding them closer as they entwined with the shared looks and touches.

He nodded slightly, releasing her hand to rest his on her hip, so he could draw her infinitesimally closer. The hand that had been released dangled aimlessly for the moment, but the other somehow came to rest on his elbow as the fingers that were caressing her cheek drew slowly downwards to rest on her chin, so that he drew her face towards him even as his own travelled down to meet her.

It was a tortuous pace, or so it felt to Mrs Hughes, but then the waiting was over as his lips met hers. He was slow and careful at first. He did not pull away to check she was alright, but rather kept to the courtesy of a chaste embrace until he sensed she was comfortable. Her ease was signaled when the arm that had dangled curled about his wait and her hand spanned his lower back. Then he knew she would not set him away, and the love he felt was profoundly shared.

He deepened the kiss – not by much, not all that forcefully – but enough to quell the breath of Mrs Hughes completely and cause her to tremble in his arms. She felt a slight nipping at her lip, not caused by her own teeth, and the realisation that it was him performing the action produced a small moan to reverberate at the back of her throat. Her hand grasped his elbow more firmly and bunched his coat in the other as she sought to remain upright and give back everything she was receiving from him.

Her moan had delighted him, but he felt any more sounds like it would be his undoing and so he gradually lessened his caresses before he pulled back slightly to look at her.

Her eyes remained closed, her lips pated slightly as she regained her breath, and a beautiful rosy flush spread over her cheeks. She didn't move at all, and he became slightly concerned at her silence.

'Are you alright Elsie?'

Her eyelids fluttered open as he spoke her given name, something he had not done for many years.

'Oh yes', she whispered, beaming up at him. 'That was worth the wait.'

He cracked a rueful smile and dropped a kiss on her forehead before meeting her eyes once more. 'I was remiss not to take the chance on Christmas Eve, but we were needed upstairs and it wasn't something I wanted to rush. There's not been a moment since then.'

She shook her head, smiling. 'Oh, I've been waiting longer than a few days Charles. Sixty two years in fact.' She wondered briefly how he would react to this news, whether it would change the way he saw her.

'Oh Elsie …' he said as he caught her meaning. 'I'm honoured.' His eyes filled with tears that did not fall as he regarded the woman before him who continued to surprise and move him, even after all this time.

Her face lost the traces of nervousness and softened as she witnessed his emotion. She reached out to stroke his face, revelling in the new freedom which allowed such familiarities and smiled. She rose slightly on her toes and wound her arms about his neck.

'Would you honour me with another kiss, Charles?'

His answer was not in words, but communication ran deep between them as their lips were joined, and as they would continue to be for many years to come.

 **A/N: Insulin shots are available for those that need to counteract the fluff. Reviews are always appreciated.**


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